


Voodoo Magic

by Daerwyn



Series: A Collection of Drabbles by Helmaninquiel [36]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 21:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5307152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daerwyn/pseuds/Daerwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine taking the arrow for Kili and Legolas following the Company to heal you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voodoo Magic

While the Hobbit had great ideas on getting out, the barrels were less than desirable to be the choice transportation. But you supposed that as long as they carried you away from the sick kingdom, with its mad king, anything was better than nothing.

The orcs, however, were not planned on. Their trail was believed to have been gone days ago, back at the bear’s house. But not, apparently. And so when one fell in the water, it was easy to snatch their weapon from their body before they could sink, and you were given plenty of choices in weapons. So you grabbed the bow and arrow, and enough arrows to take down at least a handful of Orcs.  

“Kili, no!” you heard Fili cry. And you whipped around to see said dwarf climbing out of his barrel towards the lever the elves had died to keep you from leaving. He was going to open the gates. But he obviously did not see the orc’s draw their attention to him. The duck that had left its flock. You didn’t know what came over you, but you pushed yourself from the side of the barrel, towards the solid rock of the bridge, and then heaved yourself just over the side. Jostling him had been an accident, but one that you later came to not regret. Especially since it caused the arrow meant for him to embed itself into your thigh.

The pain was burning as the arrow seemed to course through your veins, and you cried out, trying desperately to shield yourself from the pain, but it didn’t work. The arrow was cursed, you could tell right from the moment it hit you. “Y/N!” Kili cried.

“Pull the lever!” you ground out, your eyes squeezed shut. And you heard the grinding of the metal as the lever was pulled, before the sound of Kili knocking an arrow out of the way with his makeshift sword from a fallen orc. You had to pull it out.

You opened your eyes just in time to see that you were not alone. Elves had followed, namely two. The red-head that had spent too much time outside of Kili’s cell. And the blonde that had spoken to you outside of yours.

You did not know why an elf cared to spend any time at all with a dwarf. Least of all why they cared to speak to you – a sister to the dwarf king that they hated so much. But where Thorin had the dark hair of your father, you had the light hair, like Frerin had, of your mother. So perhaps the elves did not know of your relation to the king. But it was not like the elves had not had dealings with Erebor in the past.

The elf knew your name. But you did not know his. The white blonde of many Sindar elves graced his head, and his sharp blue eyes were menacing, and he reminded you much of the elven King that had visited the halls of Erebor when you were barely able to walk. The day, Thorin had told you when you understood, the elves had felt no obligation to help the dwarves for the dishonor they had presented on that day, in your grandfather’s greed.

“Y/N, we need to go!” The barrels were starting to float away. You tore your eyes away from the elf, crying out yet again as you pulled the arrow from your side. Setting it on the ledge, you climbed overtop it and calculated the distance it took to land in your barrel, and the effort you’d need. Both you and Kili jumped.

The wound worsened. While both Fili and Kili worried over it, your own brother saw no time to stop. Your sister, Lady Dis, had worried over Thorin becoming mad with the sickness. And you saw that while you escaped one mad king, it was just creating another. There was hardly anytime left before he would be completely consumed.

You could barely walk in Lake Town. Your leg would crumple under each step, and you could still feel your blood burning under your skin.

And when Thorin had insisted you stay behind, your eldest nephew had stayed, and soon followed your youngest. And the healer, Oin. And finally, Bofur. Five of the company. Bard’s home was the only one that would take you, and so you were so grateful for someplace to rest your leg that you had nearly fallen asleep, if the Orcs hadn’t come through the roof. You fought as best you could, but with your leg, and lack of weapons, it was nearly impossible to fight well enough.

An Orc was coming at you with its blade aimed, but was nearly immediately shot down with an arrow protruding from his forehead. You glanced to the door in alarm, finding a blonde elf standing there, staring at you a moment, as if making sure you were unharmed, before the arrows began to fly towards the many orcs that littered the small home.

It was not until the fighting had seized that he stepped closer to you, and examined your leg from mere steps away. In his presence, for some reason, you felt soothed already.

“I am able to heal it, but it will need to be soon. I cannot heal it once it reaches a certain point. The wound will fester. She will die.”

“What Voodoo elf magic… are you doing to me?” you ground out between the pain as the blonde elf stood over you. But if you were honest, whatever he was doing would probably hurt a lot less than the wound did. You felt the fabric of your trousers be peeled away from the wound, and bit back a cry. “Oh, Mahal. Stop looking at it and bloody heal it already, elf,” you snapped.

“I need kingsfoil,” the blonde elf spoke.

“Kingsfoil?” It was Bofur who spoke and you heard him rush over to Bard, watching anxiously from the other side of the small room. You doubted he wanted a dwarf body to deal with.

“Keep her still,” the elf spoke sharply to your nephews.

“What’s wrong with her?” Fili asked. “She was fine-”

“The arrow was poisoned.” The elf’s words were short and to the point.

“I don’t even know your name, elf,” you spoke once a lull in the pain appeared. The blonde elf darted his blue eyes to you, and even in your fading vision, they seemed to glitter. Elves were attractive in their own right, sure. And these elves were dangerously so. You blamed your deluded mind with this poison that was coursing through you. Otherwise you were certain he was not as blinding of the light as he was. Nor was he as handsome. He was a Mirkwood elf. “How should I trust your word?”

“You’ll die if you do not.”

“Should be of no consequence to you.”

“As a sister to the dwarf prince, it is of consequence to me.” You swallowed back a cry, instead twisting as the pain seemed to be burning your muscles now. Oh Mahal.

After that moment, you couldn’t remember much, nor if he ever did tell you his name. But the pain on your leg lessened and it looked as though the pure white light of a star was standing beside you. But as the light faded, it was just the blonde elf, and he was looking at you with an unreadable expression. You released Fili’s hands, feeling exhausted yourself. You had not slept since the arrow had pierced your leg. You managed to push yourself upright and reached for the elf, grabbing his arm as he attempted to move away. “Thank you,” you spoke quietly.

“Legolas,” he spoke simply. He seemed to speak nothing but. “My name is Legolas.”

You gave a small smile. “Y/N. Finally, a proper name to call you with. Elf is so… degrading.” The elf narrowed its eyes at you, but you kept an innocent expression on your face. You groaned as you swung your legs over the side of the table, and your fingers touched the skin around the wound. It would take a great deal of time to heal. Time you did not have. “The orcs retreated. I need to follow. If they know Thorin has gone to the mountain, they’ll follow him there and surely kill him-”

“You cannot travel on that leg,” Legolas spoke. “It will do nothing but slow you down. A blood moon rises.”

“Blood has been spilt on this night,” you murmured. The elf glanced to you, as if confused by your statement. But it was simple knowledge. That was the way the world worked. It was not simply legends, but truth. “You know it as well as I.”

“The blood of orcs, maybe. But if the rest of your group has left already, then they have an entire lake’s distance from the Orcs.”

You still needed to get to Thorin. But a great rumbling made your jerky motion onto your feet go unnoticed.

“It’s coming from the mountain.”

What on earth did that mean? “We must leave,” Legolas spoke immediately.

“The dragon,” Bofur breathed.

You struggled as well as you could to get to the window, and when you did, saw the red on the horizon. Saw the fire that was shining brightly behind the clouds and the smoke. Smaug.

Which meant everyone that had gone to that mountain was likely dead now. And your nephew and the would be king.

You had no time to dwell on the fact. Everyone was moving. Kili was once more at your side and was hauling you towards the stairs. Bard’s children were grabbing a few of their valuables, and you were all being herded into a boat.

“There is something I must do,” Bard spoke.

“Da!” Bain cried, but Bard did not stop. He was walking briskly along the wooded pathways, and disappeared in the sight of the panicked crowd.

And Legolas took the oars as if it was his duty to shephard you to safety, and began to push away from the dock, leaving the city to burn behind him. You did not know why he had followed, why he had come with his strange magic and his immortal allure. But there was no denying the thoughts in your head. Deluded with poison or not, he was still attractive… for an elf, that is.


End file.
